


After Happily Ever After

by JayceCarter



Series: Soulmates in the Wasteland [8]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional Baggage, F/M, M/M, Polyamory, Smut, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11721426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayceCarter/pseuds/JayceCarter
Summary: Deacon, Danse, and Haylen made it together against all odds, but the end of their story doesn't mean everything works out. Months later, Haylen is tired of Deacon pulling away, tired of him refusing to be honest, and she's had enough. When she walks out, can Deacon be honest with her? Can Danse try to get the two of them to really talk? Or will their happily ever after be cut short?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to "What Comes After," the 2nd story in the Soulmates in the Wasteland series. Timeline wise, it falls after they go to see Glory while she is pregnant and after Vadim and Fahr visit them, though neither matter greatly in this story. 
> 
> For those who haven't read any of that, it's okay! To get you up to date, Deacon and Haylen are biological soulmates and they are in a poly relationship with Danse. If you have any unanswered questions in that, feel free to ask!
> 
> This is going to be short, likely only two chapters, but I really wanted to write something for the tree of them because they've had some tension in a few of the stories I wanted to resolve.

Haylen pushed away from Deacon, shaking her head as he pulled his fingers from her.

 

“What is it, darling?” He set a hand on her arm.

 

She threw his grip off. “What’s wrong? Why won’t you have sex with me?”

 

He froze, the way he did when he hadn’t been expecting that question, when he was sorting through his options in his head. She knew that face, knew how his tongue would dart out to wet his lips as he decided how to answer. She also knew it was rarely the truth when he had to think about it.

 

Finally, he did answer. “What do you call this?” He lifted his hand to show her wetness on his fingers. “I’m pretty sure this is called sex.”

 

Haylen almost slapped him across his face. Instead, she pulled her shoulders back. “I’m leaving, Deacon.”

 

“Leaving? What are you talking about? Where are you going?” He sat up, the first signs of panic leeching through their link and scraping her raw.

 

“I’m going to Sanctuary. Please, tell Danse that’s where I’ll be when he comes back tonight. I don’t need him worrying. I'll see him tomorrow.”

 

“You can’t leave me.”

 

“No. What I can’t do is stay here another minute with you.”

 

He reached out again, but she pulled away. It hurt too much for him to touch her when he wouldn’t give her anything else. He wouldn’t talk to her, wouldn’t let her in. He just smiled and made jokes and they hollowed her out. She fought back tears.

 

She didn’t fucking care about having kids. Hell, she wasn’t ready for that either, but it was the calculated way he avoided the subject, the lengths he went to not talk to her, to not tell her whatever was going on in his head. Ever since Glory had gotten pregnant, he’d gotten worse. He’d withdrawn, pulled away from her and Danse. He spent more time on his own, his words getting more careful until he was back to that man she’d known the first few days.

 

Danse was helping the Minutemen with an errand, and without him there, without that steady barrier, she couldn’t stay. It all hurt too much.

 

“Haylen, you’re hurting. I hurt you?” The words came out soft, like he couldn’t believe them, regret pouring through the link. “I didn’t mean to. Please, just talk to me.”

 

She shook her head, pulling on her clothing. “I can’t do this with you, Deacon. I’ve been trying so hard to make this work, to accept that you aren’t always honest, but it’s too much. I can’t keep doing this blind thing with you, because I can’t do anything if you won’t even talk to me. How can I fix something when I don’t even know what is wrong?”

 

He crawled over the bed, catching her hand before she could leave the room. “Don’t go. I can’t lose you, Haylen. Don’t leave me.”

 

This time she couldn’t stop the tears. “I need some time alone. Maybe you do, too.”

 

“You’ll need contact.”

 

“I’ll make do.” And damn, it would hurt. She’d gone through mate withdraw with Nate before, knew how painful it could be. She could get more serum from the Railroad, but she didn’t have time. A smarter choice would have been to hold off until she had it, but she couldn’t.

 

She just couldn’t lay back down in that bed beside him, couldn’t feel him touch her when he wouldn’t give her a damned thing more. And he would try to touch her. Deacon rushed to sex to fix anything, thinking that he could fix any problem, or distract someone enough that they forgot to argue with him. Not that it was even mutual. He just wanted to give to take the attention off himself, off the problem.

 

“It’s like we’re back at the start, Deacon. After everything, it’s like we haven’t moved a damn step forward.” She swallowed before pulling her hand away from him. Her pack was light, since she didn’t need much. Sanctuary had everything she could possibly need already, so she only had to pack enough for the short trip.

 

“Let me walk you there, at least.”

 

Haylen shook her head. She couldn’t, because if she had to see him a minute longer, she was afraid her heart would shatter, that it would break into a million pieces and slice through her chest, or she’d give in, or she’d do something stupid and admit how damn hollow she felt. “No. It’s not that far. I need to not see you right now.”

 

He rubbed his face with his hands, fingers clawed in. “I love you, Haylen. You believe that, right?”

 

She wiped her tears away with her sleeve. “Yes, I believe it. I think that’s what makes this all hurt that much more, that there’s never been a question about that.”

 

“But you’re still going to leave?”

 

She took a deep breath before walking to the door. “Yeah. I still am.”

 

#

 

Danse walked into the Police Station, shoulders sore. He enjoyed working with the Minutemen, supplying knowledge and backup. It gave him purpose and a way to continue to pay back Nora for all she’d done for him, but it wore him out.

 

The quiet struck him first. Normally, he’d walk in to find laughter, to find heat and food. Instead, everything was dark.

 

Then the scent of whiskey hit him.

 

Danse moved through the dark room until he found Deacon, seated on the couch, bottle in hand, sunglasses on. “What’s wrong? Where is Haylen?”

 

Deacon didn’t shift his gaze, only lifted the bottle for another drink. “She left.”

 

“Left? Where did she go?”

 

“Sanctuary.”

 

“Why would she leave us?”

 

Deacon let out an ugly laugh. “Not us, Danse. She left me.” Another drink. “Told you I was never good enough. Tried to tell you both but neither of you ever listen.”

 

Danse took a deep breath. “Tell me she is safe.”

 

He nodded. “Yeah. Distance is right, and she isn’t afraid. She’s hurting, but that’s my fault.”

 

Okay. Haylen was safe. This wasn’t ideal, but knowing she was in Sanctuary allowed him to relax and focus on Deacon. There was no place safer than Sanctuary, no place better defended. The man in front of him may be talking about Haylen being hurt, but he was hurting just as much.

 

Danse pulled a chair over so he could sit in front of Deacon, his knees on the outside of Deacon’s, giving him little room to hide. Deacon loved to hide. Danse leaned in and removed Deacon’s sunglasses, setting them on the side table. “That’s better. Now, talk to me. What happened?”

 

Deacon twisted his wrist, swirling the whiskey in the bottle. “Don’t know.”

 

“We both know that isn’t true. You know about everything.”

 

“She says I won’t talk to her, that I won’t have sex with her.”

 

“She isn’t wrong. You’ve pulled away from us both.”

 

“I haven’t-“

 

Danse grasped Deacon’s knee, squeezing tight to shut him up. “-you have. We won’t be able to fix anything if you refuse to talk to us.”

 

Deacon tipped his bottle back and gulped another mouthful of whiskey. “You think this can be fixed, but I’m not so sure. Maybe this is exactly where we were headed the whole time. Maybe it was all a fucking joke, thinking I could be more, that I could ever be what either of you needed.”

 

Danse reached out for the whiskey, but Deacon yanked it away then stood, crawling over Danse so he could start to pace.

 

“See, I’ve been through losing people, and it really sucks. Maybe I’m too screwed up, huh? How the hell did I ever think I could do this?”

 

Danse stood but didn’t touch Deacon as he paced. How to get through to him?

 

Deacon was stubborn, so quick to sacrifice himself if he thought it could help anyone else. He held everything close to his chest, unwilling to let anyone close. That night, when Deacon had broken down and admitted that he’d lynched someone, that had been the closest they’d gotten.

 

They did fine for a while after that, until Glory turned up pregnant. It had only gotten worst from there. Whatever drove Deacon away, it was rooted in something to do with Glory and her pregnancy.

 

On Deacon’s next pass, Danse reached for the whiskey again. Deacon pulled back, then threw the bottle against the wall. It shattered, and Deacon only panted, staring at the place where the remaining whiskey dripped down the wall.

 

Danse set a hand on Deacon’s arm, and then everything went to hell. Deacon shoved in a hard, clumsy push. Given his far smaller frame, Deacon didn’t manage to budge Danse.

 

“Stop this,” Danse said, grabbing Deacon’s wrists.

 

“Why? What does any of it matter?” Deacon yanked away and resumed his pacing. “I told you I’d lose it all. I finally wanted something and I fucked it all up, and now Haylen is gone and it’s all my fault. Why the fuck did I think I could do any of this?” Deacon walked to the wall with the whiskey and stopped in front of it. “I knew I couldn’t do it. Can’t keep anything.”

 

Danse went to open his mouth, but Deacon threw a punch at the wall. It didn’t stop with that, though. Deacon continued, the slap of flesh against wood filling the space.

 

And Deacon showed no sign of stopping. Blood coated the wall, Deacon’s breath coming out in shuddering gasps.

 

When Deacon released a pained groan, Danse had had enough.

 

Danse walked over and yanked Deacon against him, wrapping his arms around the smaller man until he couldn’t move.

 

Deacon broke. He shook against Danse, fingers digging into Danse’s shirt, clinging to him.

 

Danse gripped him tighter, then moved him up the stairs, to their room.

 

Without Haylen there, the room felt cold and empty, like Haylen had taken so much of the warmth with her when she’d left. It’s what she did, though. Danse was the backbone, the one who kept them strong no matter what. Haylen, the heart, who cared enough about them to create a home and give them a soft place no matter what. And Deacon was the glue that meshed them all together, the one who drew their different personalities and made them a family. Their heart was missing.

 

Danse settled them into the bed, rubbing his hand over Deacon’s back. “We’ll work through this, Deacon. Haylen will forgive you, and she will come back.”

 

“Why would she come back? After how badly I’ve fucked this all up, why would she ever come back?”

 

Danse chuckled and pressed a kiss to Deacon’s forehead. “Because she loves you, and people do stupid things when they’re in love.”

 

The shaking in Deacon’s body slowed until he could draw in full breaths, until he melded closer to Danse. The darkness of the room eased him, Deacon being a man who had spent so much of his life in the shadows.

 

Darkness was the time to get information from him.

 

“Will you talk to me now?”

 

Deacon’s lips pressed against Danse’s pulse. “Why talk? I can think of a lot better things to do.”

 

“Those things won’t fix this.”

 

“Those things fix everything.”

 

“If that’s true, why isn’t Haylen here?”

 

Deacon’s sigh warmed Danse’s throat. “I’m terrified. Glory is pregnant, and she almost died from it, could still die from it. Don’t tell me it’s because she's a synth, because that shit happens. Women get pregnant, and they die. My own mother died during child birth and I’ve seen it happen, Danse. What if I get Haylen pregnant and she bleeds out on the table? It’ll be my fault, and with my luck? Fate is just waiting to screw this up.”

 

“I don’t think you need to worry about fate; you seem to be doing it yourself.”

 

“Harsh, tin can, harsh.”

 

Danse pulled back so he could look into Deacon’s eyes. “No one is trying to push you into children. Haylen just needs you to talk directly to her. You want to protect her so bad, but keeping her in the dark is hurting her. She’s stronger than you think.” Danse brushed his lips against Deacon’s. “And you are stronger than you think. Remember when you told me I needed to stop turning her down? That in trying to protect her, I was hurting her? Well, here I am giving you that same advice back. It’s hard to believe someone cares about you when they won’t trust you enough to talk to you.”

 

Deacon’s eyebrows drew together. “How will we fix it?”

 

“Let her have the night, it's what she wanted. Tomorrow, we’ll go to Sanctuary and talk to her. Haylen can’t stay mad for long, especially when you decide to be charming.”

 

And that was true. Haylen had a soft spot for them all, an ability to forgive about anything. It didn’t matter how badly one of them messed up, and they had plenty of times, she’d wrap her arms around them, offer a kiss, and move past it.

 

Deacon leaned in and kissed Danse again, this time with more urgency, more need.

 

Should he push him away? Deacon was terrible at knowing what he needed, at what would help, responding with his body as a way to hide.

 

But then again, that was how Deacon communicated. It was why he’d gotten on his knees for Danse that first time, because he wasn’t good with explaining things, but this? This he understood, this was a language he was fluent in.

 

From the clutching of Deacon’s fingers and the way his leg wrapped around Danse’s hip, Deacon needed this.

 

And Danse was helpless against what Deacon needed.

 

#

 

Deacon gasped when Danse rolled them, moving over him. It didn’t matter how often he touched Danse, how many times they did this, Deacon was never not impressed.

 

Danse had a flawless physique. Every dip and rise of his muscles, every place they flexed, just the sheer strength in him drew Deacon. The way Danse could roll him over, could move him with ease, well Deacon had never felt small before in his life.

 

He hated to admit it, but he liked it.

 

“Are you trying to take advantage of my honor?” Deacon fumbled with Danse’s pants even as he played coy.

 

Why the fuck did he do that? Because he was desperate for Danse to reassure him, for someone to make him feel like he belonged.

 

“I’m not sure you have any honor left Deacon. But, yes, I plan to take advantage of you.” Danse pulled Deacon’s t-shirt up and over his head, his gaze drifting over his chest and shoulders like he’d seen nothing better.

 

How did he do that? How did Danse look at him with such hunger when he was so little? Deacon wasn’t stupid; he wasn’t a looker. He didn’t have a body like Danse, one to caused people to fall to their knees with lust, but that’s exactly how Danse always looked at him.

 

They removed their clothing in a rush, because Deacon didn’t do anything slow, especially not when he felt like this.

 

His skin had grown too small for his frame, his lungs not working right. Haylen being so far away had fucked up his head. He’d gotten so used to Haylen there, to reaching out and touching her, to stroking his fingers through her hair, to waking up with her lips against his. His instincts rattled in his skull, demanding he go to her, that he find her, that he keep her close. 

 

The only thing he wanted was for Danse to help him forget, to make him feel like he belonged for a minute. He belonged when he was with Danse, when he was with Haylen. They made him belong when they were naked and twisted together and he had them breathless and desperate.

 

It was the only damned time he thought he could belong.

 

Once they were both naked, Danse crawled back over him, sliding a hand behind his neck and pulling him up for a kiss. Deacon reached between them, wrapping his hand around Danse’s cock, reminded again how damned much he loved this stupid tin can.

 

Danse broke the kiss and leaned toward the nightstand, pulling the bottle of lube from it they always kept there. He paused when he settled between Deacon’s thighs, the way he always did. “Are you sure?”

 

Deacon laughed the way he always did, such an easy, familiar routine. It helped. “Yeah, tin can, I’m sure. I need you. This is the only time I feel like I’m doing any of this right.”

 

Danse squeezed a hand on Deacon’s thigh before popping open the bottle and applying lube on his fingers. He always used more than was needed, took longer than he needed to. Deacon had told him they did this often enough, he didn’t need so much prep, but Danse never listened.

 

Too afraid of causing pain to risk going faster.

 

Not that Deacon could complain much, not when Danse’s fingers pressed against him, sliding into him with the gentle thrusts of his hand, other hand wrapping around Deacon’s cock to stroke him.

 

Yep, not a single fucking complaint when he did that.

 

After a minute, Deacon couldn’t wait anymore. He squirmed, and Danse pulled back, hesitating.

 

“Did I hurt you?”

 

“Yeah, from impatience. Hurry up there, soldier boy.”

 

Danse laughed, but lifted Deacon’s legs up. He settled closer, grasping himself and pressing against Deacon. One good thrust of his hips and he’d slid into Deacon.

 

And every damned time it took Deacon’s breath away.

 

He’d fucked plenty of people and sex was sex, but this was more. It always was. Whether it was Danse and him, or Haylen and him, or the three of them together, it was something more. It wasn’t just body parts and sweat and moaning, it was people he fucking loved.

 

Deacon gasped when Danse set a pace, hand set above Deacon’s shoulder for balance. Danse’s other arm wrapped below Deacon’s leg, behind his knee, to keep him angled up as he fucked him.

 

Deacon reached between them and grasped his own cock, stroking it in hard and fasts motions, desperate to come, to do something with all the tension inside him. “Fuck, Danse. You’re always so damned good at this.”

 

“Must you curse?”

 

“Yeah, I really fucking must.” Deacon thumbed over the head of his cock, smearing the precome, groaning at how damned full Danse made him.

 

Danse huffed out a breath, that same one that said what Deacon did annoyed him almost as much as his reaction to it did. Tin can didn’t like to admit how charming Deacon was, probably worried it would encourage him. Too bad annoying people encouraged Deacon more.

 

“Come on, tin can. I won’t break. Put those muscles to work, would you?”

 

“You are incorrigible.” Even when Danse scolded him, he picked up the pace, taking Deacon harder, giving him exactly what he knew he needed.

 

Leave it to Danse to know what he needed, to know how damned badly he needed to get lost in this, to not think.

 

Deacon kept his hand going until he came hard, body tightening down enough that Danse had to stop.

 

“Do you want me to pull out?”

 

Deacon shook his head. “No. Come on, finish.”

 

“You’re always so sensitive after, though.”

 

Deacon laid back, relaxing in the blissful exhaustion that came post-orgasm. “You looking for me to beg? Because I’m too fucking tired to beg. I need to feel you, Danse. I don’t have Haylen, don’t know what’ll happen, if I’ll ever have her back, so for tonight? Just let me feel you, let me know you’re still here, at least for tonight.”

 

Danse leaned in, sliding an arm between Deacon and the bed, pulling Deacon against him, smearing the come on Deacon’s stomach between their bodies.

 

Danse took Deacon’s lips in a kiss as he continued thrusting into him, gentler and slower than before, because Danse wasn’t as frantic as Deacon, never was. Danse was fucking gentle, something that shocked him every time, given his size and strength. 

 

Deacon let himself drift away in that kiss, in the way Danse took him. Eventually Danse came, too, though Deacon hardly remembered it. Everything fell into each other, every moment mixing with the next. He didn’t argue when Danse wiped him clean after he pulled out, when Danse slid into the bed behind him and pulled them together.

 

Danse drug a finger over Deacon’s cheek, and it came away wet. Neither mentioned it.

 

“Get some sleep, Deacon. Everything will look better tomorrow.”

 

Deacon really didn’t see how it could.

 

#

 

Haylen squeezed her eyes shut against the lust that poured through the link. It didn’t shock her and it didn’t upset her. If anyone understood Deacon, it was Haylen.

 

He was hurting, and sex was his cure. It always was. Where sex was still frightening at times to Haylen, it was a cure for Deacon.

 

She could almost see Danse and Deacon curled up together. How Danse would walk in to find Deacon heartbroken, would lecture him some, until Deacon tempted him into bed. Yeah, she knew exactly how that could happen, and she couldn't fault either of them for it. People got comfort however they could. 

 

She should be there, too. But. . . she couldn’t.

 

Every time she thought about looking up into Deacon’s face, the way he held himself back, the way he measured his words, it just dug too deep.

 

Was it her? Did he think she wasn’t strong enough to deal with his problems? Maybe if she was someone else, like Nora, he’d trust her.

 

Maybe Danse and him would realize they didn’t need her after all. Maybe that’s what this all was, just Deacon realizing she didn’t fit, that she didn’t belong but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. He loved her, she knew that. Love didn't mean it would work, though. Love didn't fix anything, and being mates didn't mean anything. Just because he loved her didn't mean anything. Maybe she was just too broken and he'd realized there was no fixing her. 

 

Her hands shook, the pain creeping in. All the crying, all the stress, meant she needed his touch more than usual, but she wouldn’t go crawling back.

 

Not when she was so terrified this all was him pulling away because he didn’t want her anymore.

 

No matter how much it hurt, she’d let him go. She’d let them both go if that’s what they needed, because she loved them too much to tie them down.

 

Haylen pulled her knees up, curling against the pillow in Nora’s room, the one Preston had given her for the night, and shook until sleep took her.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Danse left Deacon with Preston, figuring it would be best to see Haylen on his own, first. He walked into Nora’s house, where Preston had put her.

 

It was a smart choice. Nora didn’t care for him, but she loved Haylen. She’d have insisted Haylen take her room if she’d known. Nora rarely slept at Sanctuary, too busy trying to save everyone to relax.

 

No one sat in the living room, and no noise came from the house. Danse walked down the hallway to the doorway of the bedroom.

 

A shaking form curled up in the bed, blankets wrapped around her like it could stop the shaking.

 

Danse took a deep breath before calling into the room. “Haylen?” He didn’t want to startle her awake, had learned that, especially when upset, she didn’t react well to being woken.

 

She twisted her head, eyes red and sunken in. Had she slept at all? “Danse?”

 

He nodded. “Can I come in, sweetheart?”

 

She sat up, and damn, her shaking got worse. Her jaw trembled as she nodded, and Danse crossed the room in a rush, pulling her against his chest. He kissed her head, stroking his hands over her back like he had Deacon the night before.

 

“I missed you,” he whispered against her hair.

 

“Miss you, too.” The clattering of her teeth made the words unclear.

 

“You’re hurting, Haylen. Why would you leave when you’re hurting?”

 

“I couldn’t stay there. It hurt worse than this.”

 

Danse pulled back a little, rubbing a thumb over her cheek. “I’m sorry. I should have been there.”

 

“You can’t fix everything, Danse. We can’t expect you to, either.”

 

“You two mean the world to me. It isn’t fixing, it’s just helping. I know you both mean well. He’s here; I’m sure you noticed.”

 

She nodded. “Yeah, I knew he was getting closer.”

 

“Are you willing to talk to him?”

 

“What’s the point? I think I’ll throw up if I hear him give me one more excuse or one more lie.”

 

“Well, that gives me some incentive to be honest, doesn’t it?” Deacon’s voice had Haylen flinching and drawing closer to Danse.

 

He hated being in the middle like this. He loved them both, wanted them to just work this out. Not that he didn’t understand Haylen’s anger. Deacon didn’t talk to her the way he talked to Danse. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was a woman, or because of her past, but he tried to shield her more.

 

And Haylen, being her, took it as an insult instead.

 

Just a mess.

 

Deacon pressed his lips together. He must have caught her flinching from him, and he couldn’t miss the way she shook.

 

“Can I talk to you?”

 

“Is there really a point? You talk a lot; you just never say anything.”

 

Deacon leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and stuck his hands into his pockets, the muscles in his arms standing out. He wanted to cross the room, wanted to touch Haylen, but he’d never force her, so he stayed put. “Please? Let me try to fix this, Haylen. Take a walk with me, down to the stream. We don’t have to be alone, not if you aren’t comfortable with that.”

 

She sighed, and even without a link, Danse could feel how tired she was. Had she been shaking and hurting like this all night? What would they do if they couldn’t fix this? She’d need serum again, something.

 

“Okay. Let me get dressed. I’ll meet you outside.”

 

Deacon nodded. “Thanks. Do you want Danse to come?”

 

She shook her head. “I’m not afraid of you. I don’t need anyone to keep me safe from you.”

 

“Okay. I’ll meet you out front.” He nodded toward the front door before leaving, an awkward turn.

 

Danse stood and retrieved an outfit from her pack. He set it close, since she didn’t seem well. “You should let Deacon help you with the shaking. This is only going to get worse, and it will be a few days until we can get any serum.”

 

“I won’t use him like that. If this is done, then I won’t just use him like that.”

 

“You know as well as I do that Deacon won’t see it as using him. Just think about it, please.”

 

Haylen made a soft sound that could have meant anything before she pulled the large sweater on that he’d given her. A pair of jeans and her boots finished the outfit. She sat on the end of the bed like she lacked the energy to even stand, but the heavy clothing might help the shaking.

 

Danse crouching in front of her to tie her boots. “Please, listen to him.”

 

“I know you two had sex last night.”

 

He frowned. “Yes, we did. Does that bother you? I thought. . .”

 

“No. I’m not angry about it. It’s always been okay for any of us to do that. I just, it made me wonder where my place is, if I have a place. Maybe I’m not needed there at all. You two just fit, and I don't know if I do.”

 

Danse released a soft laugh as he finished on her second boot. “You and Deacon are so alike, so stubborn, neither thinking you belong. I think you and him would do well to talk for a while.”

 

“We’ll talk. I just don’t know if he’ll actually say anything.”

 

#

 

Deacon jerked up straight when Haylen walked out alone. She always did that to him, made him want to be better, to be more.

 

She looked terrible.

 

Her skin paled, her hands tucked into her pockets as if that hid the shaking. The shaking killed him.

 

She was hurting and it was his fault. She had decided she'd rather be in pain than touch him. He’d made her uncomfortable, made her run, and she was suffering for it.

 

Why were other people always paying for his fuck ups?

 

He nodded toward the water. “Thought we’d head down to the riverbank. Should be empty around now. There’s a couple nice rocks we could sit on, I thought.”

 

She nodded. “Sure.”

 

“Are you hungry? We can grab some food before we head down.”

 

“No. Don’t think my stomach will handle food.”

 

Again, his fault. Fuck. He didn’t reach for her, wouldn’t force her no matter how much it hurt them both. They walked to the water slowly, Haylen not moving well.

 

Deacon nodded at a rock by the water, and Haylen sat on it, feet dangling off, over the water. Deacon took a spot leaning against the rock, close enough she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to, but he knew she wouldn't.

 

“What happened to your hands?”

 

Course she wouldn’t miss that. He’d cleaned them as well as he could, but dried blood still coated his knuckles, bruising over most of his hands. Not his smartest choice.

 

“Went a couple rounds with a wall.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

He shook his head. “Fuck sorry, darling. Not your fault.”

 

“I left.”

 

“And it was my fault you left. . .” he swallowed hard. “that you left me.”

 

“Why are you here? What do you want?”

 

Deacon took a deep breath before twisting so he could face her, removing his sunglasses. “I’ve always been someone willing to cut and run if I need to. I don’t want to do that with you, I can’t. I’ll take however long it takes to make this right, to fix this.”

 

“You know the funny thing? You act like you have to do something amazing to fix this, like I’m asking you to climb mountains or fight deathclaws. I’m not asking for any of that.”

 

“Trust me, I’d rather fight deathclaws. That’s easy compared to this. I’ve never been honest, Haylen. It’s dangerous, always has been. Dangerous for me, dangerous for others.”

 

“Then this will never work, because I won’t be with someone who can’t even be honest with me. I can’t. I’ve done it for months, months where you’ve pulled so far back I feel like you’re a stranger, so far back that when you touch me, it’s like I don’t even know you, like you aren’t there at all. You touch me and I don’t feel safe anymore because it’s like someone I don’t know and can’t trust.”

 

And there went his heart. She’d clawed it out with a few words.

 

Deacon closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing steady. “Fuck, Haylen, I’m sorry. I don’t want that with you, with us. I didn’t realize it had gotten so bad. I, uh, well I don’t always notice when I start this shit. It just starts rattling in my head and I don’t want to put it on either of you because, well, it’s my shit. I should handle it. Never wanted you to not feel safe with me, though.”

 

“So talk to me. You say you’re willing to do anything, that you want to fix this, talk to me. Tell me what it is that’s causing this? I’m not stupid, I know it has to do with kids, with Glory’s pregnancy, but I can’t help if I don’t understand it.”

 

“I’m a coward. I’ve said it before, but I don’t think you get that. Hiding is easier. I can’t get you pregnant, Haylen, I can’t. I’m terrified by it. I told Danse that, I’m afraid it’ll end up killing you.”

 

“I never asked you to get me pregnant, Deacon. That’s what makes me so fucking angry with you. You make assumptions and decisions about me and my life but you never even talk to me. I didn’t ask you for any of that, but you decided that one, I wanted it, two, that I wasn’t going to get it and three, you were going to keep me in the dark about all of it. I’ve already had a mate who made decisions for me, and I won’t ever allow it again.”

 

He reached for her and she flinched away, despite the way her teeth clicked together. Haylen wasn’t one to curse, and the word on her lips drew blood.

 

He pulled his hand back. “I didn’t mean to make the choice for you. I just couldn’t figure out how to say it, how to explain it. I’m supposed to be tough, I’m supposed to shoulder this all, and it feels like it all comes back on me. If you’re hurt or you die from being pregnant, that falls on me. It’s my fault. I don’t think I could survive you dying, Haylen. I can’t lose you.”

 

“Well, if you can’t figure out how to open up, you’re going to. I can get serum from the Railroad so I won’t have to use you for contact.”

 

“What about Danse?”

 

“Well figure it out. Maybe I’ll stay here, close enough he can see us both. I wouldn’t split you two up. You two need each other.”

 

“I need you, too.”

 

“You know the hardest thing? I need you, too. I need to wake up and feel you next to me. I need your stupid jokes. I need you.” She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. “But you haven’t been here. I feel like I lost you already, and that kills me. After we killed Rhys, after you healed, I’d felt like I’d finally gotten what I really wanted. Then we found out about Glory, and it all started slipping away. You might be in that bed, Deacon, but you’re miles away.”

 

“Come home, please? I’ll move into another room. Fuck, I’ll move into one of the building around it. I’ll sleep on the porch with the ferals. You don’t have to see me, I’ll stay out of your way, but we need you. Whatever it takes, just come home.”

 

Haylen pressed her lips together like it could hide anything, like she could hide anything from him. The only reason she’d say yes was how damned tired she was. She looked like she could fall asleep right there on the rock. He needed to get a rush on the serum. If she refused to use touch, if she refused to touch him, he’d never force her, but she couldn’t go on like this either.

 

It tore him apart to see her like this. He’d send word today. Fuck, maybe he’d send MacCready. The merc was fast, could make the trip in a day or two if he rushed, and for the caps Deacon would give him, he’d rush.

 

“If I come back, it doesn’t mean we’re okay.”

 

“Trust me, with the shaking you’re doing, I’m really fucking aware how not okay we are.”

 

She nodded and stood, unsteady on her feet. “You know, I never wanted to end up here.”

 

“It’s not the end, Haylen. Just a bump. We’ll figure it out.”

 

She didn't answer, and that silence was like another bullet to him. She took a step, tripping and pitching forward.

 

Deacon grabbed her, lifting her but keeping his skin from touching hers. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, like she just couldn’t fight anymore.

 

Before he made it back to Danse, she’d fallen asleep.

 

How could he have fucked this up so badly?

 


	3. Chapter 3

Haylen woke, frowning. Where was she? Why did she hurt so bad?

 

Fingers brushed through her hair, and she jerked upright.

 

“Just me.” Danse.

 

Then it all came back. She’d left, spent the night in Sanctuary, suffered through mate withdraw.

 

That explained the pain in her temples, the ache through her body, the way her teeth chattered.

 

“We hired MacCready to retrieve serum, but the trip there takes a day and another back. Please, let Deacon help. Neither of us would force you to do anything, but this is hurting us all.”

 

She sighed. “Using him for contact would be using him, Danse. He wants me to come back and I don’t know if that will ever happen, so using him like this? It’s not right.”

 

“You said you didn’t like when I make choices for you, well darling, don’t make any for me.” Deacon stood by the doorway.

 

He did that a lot, didn’t he? Since she’d left, he’d kept his distance, stayed out of the room she was in. Then again, she'd told him she didn't feel safe with him anymore, and Deacon had always been careful with her, always sure not to frighten her.

 

“It isn’t using me if I offer. It’s my fault you left, I know that, I accept that. Makes it my fault you’re in pain, too.”

 

“Why didn’t you just touch while I was asleep?”

 

“Because you said no, and I’m trying really hard to listen to you, and we both know I’m not great at that.”

 

Haylen stared across the room, taking in the details of Deacon. She’d missed him. Even in such a short amount of time away, she’d missed him. His stupid smile, the way he’d tell the most outlandish lies, the way he could make her smile no matter what. She’d missed him so much it hurt, worse than the shaking, than the pain.

 

“Okay,” she whispered.

 

Danse kissed her forehead and stood. “I’ll go check in with defenses now that we’re back.” As he passed Deacon, the men grasped hands, a gentle squeeze, and then Danse was gone.

 

Deacon came no closer. “I never wanted to scare you. I still remember the first day I saw you, sitting in a chair in that room, lying about Nate.”

 

“Is that what got you? The lying?”

 

He smiled, shrugging. “Maybe.”

 

“Come on, Deacon. You’re not going to do me any good from over there.”

 

“Not sure I’m doing you any good no matter what.” Deacon came forward, sitting on the edge of the bed, and set his hand out, palm up, an offer she could refuse.

 

Haylen set her own hand in his, a soft whimper escaping her at the way the shaking slowed, the way she could draw in full breaths again.

 

“I wonder sometimes if, without nature butting in, you and I would have ever considered each other. You and Danse make sense, but you and me? Do you think we’d be together if we weren’t mates?” Haylen asked the question even though the answer might kill her. 

 

Deacon’s thumb rubbed over Haylen’s hand. “No, I don’t think we would.” He gripped her hand when she tried to pull away. “Stop. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve always been a loner, and I would have never pursued you on my own. I’d have figured we’d end up here, or worse, so I wouldn’t have tried to force you into something. So, would I have wanted you? Fuck, yes. Would I have pursued it? Nah. I’d have chickened out. What about you?”

 

She folded her legs in front of her, wrapping her free arm around herself. “You’re a good man, Deacon. Even if you don’t see it, if you don’t believe it. Yes, I’d have wanted you. I’d have wanted to help you, to have you, but I’d have walked away before now if we weren’t mates.”

 

“You should have talked to me sooner. Why didn’t you just talk to me before you were ready to walk away? You keep saying you can’t fix something if I won’t talk to you but how can I fix anything if you hold it all inside until you walk out one day? How can you expect me to fix anything if you won’t be honest either?”

 

She wanted to argue, to tell him off for putting this on her, but he wasn’t wrong. She should have said something sooner, should have spoken up when it started, when he began to pull away.

 

Would they still be here if she had? If she’d put her foot down after they found out Glory was pregnant? If she’d tried to talk to him?

 

Maybe. Deacon was stubborn.

 

“You’re right; I should have. I guess I’m a coward, too.”

 

Deacon turned that time, drawing one leg onto the bed so he could face her. He reached out, but hesitated before he reached her cheek.

 

Haylen leaned into the touch.

 

“You’re frustrating, and sneaky, and a hell of shot with a sniper rifle, but you’re not a coward. We’re supposed to be honest, right? That goes for us both. Why didn’t you speak up sooner?”

 

“Because I’ve been enough of a problem. Seemed wrong to try and force you to talk to me after everything you’ve put up with for me. So I shoved it all down and tried to ignore it until I just couldn't anymore.”

 

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. “You’re a lot of things, but a problem isn’t one of them. We all have problems, and part of this is dealing with them. I’ll deal with mine, but you have to deal with yours, too. You need something? You need to tell me, you need to tell Danse, or we can’t work it out. We can’t wait until it blows up like this, because then we all get cut as we try to put it back together.”

 

She nodded, but kept her head against his, needing that touch, needing him. “I don’t want kids either, not yet, but I will. I want to be a mom someday, when things have calm down, when we’re all in a good place. Can you say the same?”

 

“Yeah. I think of our future, and I think of having little rugrats running around, teaching them how to take care of themselves, tucking them in at night, and yeah, I want that. I’m just afraid of being able to keep them safe. Lot of kids die out here, and losing any of them? That’s the sort of pain I don’t think I could survive. I watched when Nora lost her son, and I don’t think I could survive that. And that’s assuming you live through it. I have nightmares sometime, you know? Use to be about things I’d done, things I’d seen. Not anymore. Now, it’s you on a table, bleeding out, and we can’t stop it. I think about having to turn around and face Danse, and him knowing it was all my fault.”

 

“Do you have nightmares like that a lot?”

 

He nodded, forehead rubbing against hers.

 

“Wake me up next time.”

 

“I’m not going to wake you up every time I have a bad dream.”

 

“You are. Come on, you want me to tell you how we can fix this? This is part of it. I need you to talk to me, to stop shoving this all inside of you. I want to help you. When I have nightmares, you always wake up, you know, and you pull me against you and run your hands through my hair until I fall back asleep. I want to do that for you.”

 

“I don’t have any hair.”

 

“Smartass. I’m serious, Deacon. Tell me you’ll wake me up.”

 

“I will. I’ve got a question for you, now.”

 

“What?”

 

“Can I kiss you? I know we aren’t great, and I’m not trying to push you, and you can say no and-“

 

She cut his rambling short when she crossed the tiny distance between them to kiss him. She didn’t go for slow or gentle, because Deacon wasn’t those things. He could be, for her, but it wasn’t his nature.

 

A surprised noise left his throat, sliding into a groan as he returned the kiss. He moved his hand to the back of her neck, his other going to her side, slipping beneath the sweater to keep the skin to skin contact.

 

Haylen moved toward him, driven by instinct, by what she wanted from him, from what she could only get from Danse.

 

That was part of why this worked, they were all so different. Danse would always be steady, reliable, sweet. He could make her feel like the most important thing in the world, like everything would be fine. But when she wanted to lose herself, to throw away everything, Deacon could do that. He could make her forget everything else, and she could go crazy with him, both lost to passion. Two things she needed, and two men who could give them to her.

 

Haylen pushed Deacon backward until he laid out and she could crawl over him.

 

He broke the kiss. “Maybe we should slow down? I don’t want to rush you.”

 

“What did I say about making choices for me?”

 

“Yeah, but I’m talking to you first. That should give me some credit.”

 

“Credit?” She leaned down to kiss at throat, sucking hard over his pulse until a red mark remained, one that would bruise. “What do you want for your credit?”

 

“You.” Deacon pulled his hand between them, holding something in a foil packet.

 

Haylen sat up, frowning. “What’s that?”

 

“Look, neither of us are ready for kids, but I think maybe not actually having sex is causing us problems. This is a condom. They used to use them, but two hundred years is hell on latex.” He flashed a smile, but the tension lines in his cheeks stayed. “Danse knows someone who can still make them, though. It means we could have sex and not worry about kids. If that’s what you want, of course. Again, I don’t want to rush you.”

 

“Danse did this?”  

 

“Course he did. He’s been worried about us, too. You know him, he worries like a mother yao guai. Figured this might help.”

 

Haylen laughed, thinking about Danse, as shy as he could be about sex, having to obtain condoms from a friend. The poor man likely had the entire conversation a bright red. She’d have to make sure and thank him for it, even if he’d hate the gratitude. Had she ever met such an uptight person? Anyone who spent more than a few minutes around him would be shocked to discover he routinely slept with a man and a woman at the same time.

 

“So, are you interested? Even if you are, it doesn’t have to be right now. I understand if you need more time, if you don’t feel safe. I never want to frighten you, darling, never want you to feel forced or scared of me.” The words came out hard, like he had to force them out, and the pain from them floated through their link.

 

“Yes. I want to, please.”

 

Deacon rolled her so he was on top.

 

The position had never bothered Haylen, even after Nate. She didn’t mind Danse over her, didn’t mind Deacon doing it. The feeling of a man on top of her didn’t make her anxiety spike, so when Deacon slid over her, she only smiled.

 

He moved back as he stripped down, Haylen following his lead. She’d never tire of looking at him, all lean lines. It had taken time, but she finally didn’t associate him with Nate. Even when he touched her, when he was up against her, he’d finally just become Deacon. Her Deacon. Thin, and strong, and a never ending source of annoyance. 

 

Once naked, he moved back over her, gaze dragging up her body, his lips tilted up at the corners. “I missed you.”

 

“It’s been like a day since we were in bed.”

 

“Feels like longer. Feels like forever.” He balanced his weight on a hand, his other hand running over her side. “Don’t leave me again, Haylen. Scream at me, throw punches, whatever it takes. Just don’t leave me.”

 

#

 

Deacon couldn’t touch her enough, couldn’t get close enough to reassure himself that she was back. She’d taken a fucking piece of him when she’d walked out and he needed it back, needed her back.

 

And to think he’d have her? Really have her, not some bullshit pretending, but that he’d slid into her the way he was supposed to, the way instinct had been slamming around inside of him, demanding. They'd done so many things, the three of them, but a part was still missing. Something written in his DNA demanded this, and nothing else sated it. 

 

“I can’t promise I won’t leave. I’ve put up with being unhappy before, and I’ll never do it again. But, I will promise that I’ll talk to you, first.”

 

Part of him hated the answer, the idea that she was willing to walk. The other part was fucking thrilled to hear it. When he’d first met her, Nate had beat her down so much, she’d been willing to do anything to avoid a fight, to protect herself. He remembered when she'd tried to kiss him when she'd thought he'd be angry, the way she'd been willing to give him her body just to avoid conflict. The fact that she’d grown enough that she wouldn’t put up with bullshit, even his, made him so fucking proud.

 

He moved his hand down, between her legs. “I’ll take that, then.” His fingers found her wet, always so fucking wet for him. He wanted to slide down and taste her, to get his tongue on her until he could pull a moan from her, but that wasn’t for today.

 

“Come on, D. You complain that Danse takes too long getting you’re ready; well, you’re doing that.”

 

“Yeah, and I get why he worries now, too. So, relax and let me work, hmm?” He leaned down and kissed over her neck, then took a nipple between his lips.

 

“I swear, if you don’t get on with it, I’ll tell Danse he made you sore, and he won’t take you for two weeks.”

 

Deacon chuckled before leaning back. “You play dirty, you know that?”

 

“I learned it from you.”

 

He set his hands on her thighs, holding her still. “You shouldn’t take my lessons to heart, Haylen. Clearly I’ve got no idea what I’m doing.” He tore open the foil packet, pulling the condom out. Even if these were common, they didn’t get used much. The rare diseases one could get from sex were easily treated, and only mates could become pregnant, which meant casual sex didn’t hold many risks. He’d never required something like this before.

 

“Do you have any idea how to use that?”

 

He offered her a grin. “Yep. Danse made sure to ask, and I made sure to make him explain it to me four times just to see his cheeks turn that pretty red.”

 

Haylen lifted her foot and kicked him in the shoulder. “You are so mean to him.”

 

Deacon rolled the condom on, eyebrow lifting at the absurd purple color.

 

Haylen laughed until she was almost gasping when she saw it. “But I guess he got his revenge, huh?”

 

Deacon leaned over her, capturing her lips in a kiss even as she continued to giggle. He slid his cock against her folds, and that got her attention, laughed dying in her throat.

 

“Tell me you want me,” he whispered, the same need he always had, the one that tried to fill this empty space inside of him, the one that thought he'd never be good enough for anything, for anyone. 

 

Haylen slid her arm beneath his, clutching his back. “I want you Deacon, and I need you.”

 

He pressed his forehead against her shoulder as he pushed into her, a soft groan from the tightness. It didn’t feel the same, not with the condom on, but fuck if he cared. He had her, really had her, for the first time. This was how it was supposed to be with mates, the thing he’d denied himself, and now he finally had it.

 

He took her slowly, lips pressing against her shoulder. For a man who talked so damned much, he really never could say anything of importance. He could make jokes, he was great at dirty talk, but anything real? He couldn’t say that.

 

So instead, he pulled Haylen’s leg up and around his hip as he slid into her, drawing every sound he could from her, every sweet moan, trying to sear them into his memory.

 

He wasn’t stupid. He had her right then, but tomorrow? A week from then? Who knew if he could keep her, if she wouldn’t realize he couldn’t change enough. Months of trying to be enough, months of failing. He was so damned tired of failing, of having to look into her face, into Danse’s face, and know they accepted his failures. If they’d screamed, maybe it would have been easier. They didn’t, though. They just loved him, and he had no defense against that.

 

Haylen pressed her finger against the creases in his forehead. “Stop thinking, Deacon. You can think tomorrow; you can worry and obsess and overanalyze every little detail tomorrow. Tonight? I’m here, so just be here with me.”

 

He nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Haylen. I know I fuck this up, a lot more than I should, and that I have the emotion maturity about as deep and clear as a mud puddle, and I never wash dishes after I’m done with them, and my pranks aren’t that great-“

 

“-are you going to get to a point eventually?”

 

“I thought you liked my dirty talk?”

 

Haylen nipped at his bottom lip, dragging her teeth across it. “You aren’t as charming as you think you are.”

 

“I must be. I can’t think another reason you’d put up with me.” And damn if that wasn’t the truth.

 

She opened her mouth to respond, to tell him he was wrong, but Deacon didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t need to hear it. He needed to show her what he could do, to change, to be honest, to maybe be what she needed, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to try and explain it away.

 

So Deacon kissed her instead. He silenced her with his lips as he took her.

 

When they’d finished, he cleaned up, disposed of the condom, and tucked her into the bed. Danse came in a little while after, crawling in behind him.

 

Danse pressed a kiss to Deacon’s shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Are you all right?”

 

Deacon nodded, leaning back against Danse’s chest. “Yeah. I think we will be. Oh, and don’t think you won. Purple is so my color.”

 

Danse’s laugh rumbled against Deacon’s back, and he smiled.

 

They weren’t perfect, but tonight had been. . . something. The three of them were together again, and right then, that was all that mattered. That was enough, more than he ever thought he'd have. 

 

Tomorrow the three of them would sit down, and they’d fix this.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 Danse set the bowls of food on the table as he did most mornings. Because he woke up early, he’d taken the job of breakfast. Deacon made dinner, and Haylen tended to clean and make desserts.

 

“Morning.” Haylen walked out, shirt wrapped around her, hanging down to her thighs. It bagged down over one shoulder, her hair down around her shoulders.

 

“Good morning.”

 

Behind her, Deacon walked out. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans but wore no shirt, and even his glasses had been left behind. It made him look like he lived there.

 

It was a sight that had Danse smiling. Deacon so often looked like someone passing through, like he wasn’t willing to commit. Right then? He looked like he belonged.

 

“Sit.” Danse pointed at the two chairs before taking a seat in his own.

 

“Well, aren’t you bossy?” Deacon took his seat even as he argued.

 

“I wouldn’t need to be if you two ever just spoke to each other.”

 

Haylen laughed as she picked up her fork. “You know we’re in trouble when Danse is the emotionally mature one.”

 

“Well, to be fair, anything with the word mature in it isn’t going to describe me.” Deacon smiled, the skin by his eyes creasing.

 

As cute as the two could be, Danse wasn’t ready to let them sweep anything beneath the rug. They’d done that for too long and it had gotten them where they were. “Are you going to stay, Haylen?”

 

She nodded. “Yes.”

 

“Good. I didn’t like you away. We were missing something.”

 

“Well-“

 

Danse pointed his fork at Deacon. “Hush. No jokes. I think we should plan to sit down together every week. This got to where it got because no one would just talk to each other. I don’t want that to happen again, so we should sit down. When in the Brotherhood, we had interdepartmental debriefings-“

 

Deacon opened his mouth.

 

“-not debriefings like that, Deacon. It helped to head off small problems early before they became large problems.”

 

Haylen was the one to answer. “It’s a good idea. I told Deacon this was my fault, too. I should have spoken up sooner.”

 

Deacon sighed, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. It’s probably smart. I don’t like it, but I like it more than Haylen taking off again.” His lips tilted up the way they did when he’d gotten an idea. “Let’s start one now. I have a serious complaint.”

 

Danse groaned. “What is your complaint?”

 

“You insist on walking around with pants on. Don’t you know how unfair that is?”

 

“Deacon-“

 

“-he’s right. The pants are a serious problem.” Haylen mirrored Deacon’s grin.

 

“You both are impossible.”

 

“I submit a new rule. Danse can’t wear pants in the house anymore. We’ll put a hook by the door to hang them,” Deacon said.

 

“I am not going-“

 

“-Yes. I’m sorry, but it’s two against one, Danse. It seems fair.”

 

Danse pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Make fun of the idea.”

 

Deacon reached a foot out and pushed his leg. “It’s a good idea, tin can. But, so is my whole no pants thing.”

 

“You’re lucky you’re adorable.” Danse turned a matching glare on Haylen. “Both of you.”

 

#

 

Haylen reached a hand behind her, cupping the back of Deacon’s neck to keep him close. She sat in his lap, her back to his chest, her knees on the outside of his legs, riding him slowly. One of his hands cupped her breast, those fingers of his toying with her nipple.

 

Danse was in front of her, his legs straddling Deacon’s as well, his arm braced behind them on the headboard of the bed, his other hand on her clit.

 

Deacon’s free hand had reached around her and wrapped around Danse’s cock.

 

“You’re so tight,” Deacon groaned into her ear, breath tickling her. “So damned tight.”

 

Danse laughed before leaning in to capture Deacon’s lips, trapping Haylen between their chests.

 

She loved that, the way their bodies pressed against her. She never felt as comfortable as when she had them against her.

 

Danse broke the kiss, then pressed his lips against her shoulder. “Never leave again, Haylen.”

 

“New vote. I vote Haylen doesn’t wear pants, either.”

 

“The meetings aren’t supposed to be for-“ Danse’s words broke on a groan when Deacon stroked him harder. “-for your own desire to keep everyone naked,” he finished on a shaky breath.

 

“Stop arguing, you two.” Haylen twisted her hips as she rode Deacon, Danse’s fingers never stopping.

 

She relaxed against Deacon, their home having regained the warmth that had drifted away. All that time when Deacon had been out of reach, when he’d closed himself off from her, from Danse, it was over. She felt every inch of him, the way his body warmed hers, the way his arms pinned her.

 

He and Danse were opposites in so many ways. Danse was serious, mature, predictable. Deacon was fun, flighty, and always up to something. She’d never have thought she’d want let alone be capable of making a relationship with two such different men going, and yet she couldn’t imagine losing either of them.

 

They all lost themselves in the familiar until they were spent and tired, wrapped up together in the bed. Haylen snuggled between the two, a leg thrown over Deacon’s hips while he back pressed against Danse’s arm.

 

This would come and go. Problems would happen, they’d fight. There was no way for three such people to live together and not butt heads now and then. That was normal, that was healthy, it was life.

 

For the first time in a long time, when curled between Danse and Deacon, Haylen felt confident that no matter what happened, no matter what problems, the three of them could handle them.

 

They all had gone through hell to get there. She’d suffered her time with Nate. Deacon had lost his wife, had lost so many people while in the Railroad. Danse had been thrown out by the only family he’d ever had after finding out his past was a lie. After all that loss, after all the things the three had endured, they’d finally arrived somewhere good.

 

As Haylen laid there when the men she loved, she knew it had all been worth it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK, I finished something! I'm working hard to finish up my WIPs and try to get to a point where I only have one or two in progress. I'm getting a bit overwhelmed by having so many outstanding. :)


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